


Cooking Up Trouble

by HariWrites



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cooking Lessons, F/M, Nonsense, This Is STUPID, Utter Nonsense, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HariWrites/pseuds/HariWrites
Summary: Adrien can't cook, but Mr Damocles has made cookery classes mandatory. He turns to his friends for help.





	Cooking Up Trouble

Adrien couldn’t cook, but it had never been an issue before now. 

This was all Mr Damocles’ fault.

He was concerned by the global obesity epidemic, an apparent skills shortage of homegrown chefs in Paris and a realisation that his pupils were becoming increasingly reliant on junk food to feed themselves while their parents were at work. He decreed that cookery classes would be compulsory for all school years.

The new cookery teacher, Mme.  Cuisiniere was terrifying. She was a tall, grey-haired woman who didn’t have time for your shit. She certainly had no time for spoiled rich kids who had next to no cookery knowledge because their private chef took care of that. 

Adrien was screwed. 

Mme. Cuisiniere wasn’t scared of Mayor Bourgeois so even Chloe was out of luck, no amount of threatening that her ‘father would hear about this’ was going to prevent Chloe from getting her hands dirty.

Most of his classmates had at least some cookery skills. Alya and Marinette excelled, of course. When you parents are chefs or bakers, he supposed you pick things up at home. Rose loved to bake and Ivan, it turned out, was a talented cook, he just lacked finesse. Nino had some skills, too. He cooked evening meals for his brothers when his parents were on night-shift so he knew his way around the kitchen. 

Mme. Cuisiniere expected a baseline of knowledge and basic ability; Adrien had neither. He couldn’t tell a mouli from a mandoline.

Adrien couldn’t fail this class. One bad grade would be enough to convince his father that school wasn’t working for his son and drag him back to lessons at home. He had to improve at this and soon. He had no choice, he had to ask his friend for help.

“Mme. Cuisiniere is going to put me in a casserole if I don’t get a hang of this fast. Help me, please.” Adrien begged Nino.

“Dude, I’m happy to help, leave it to me,” Nino replied.

…

Two days later, Adrien was in Marinette’s apartment, kneading bread dough with Tom Dupain. The next day, he was in Alya’s flat while Marlena Césaire showed him how to slice an onion,  holding it with a claw-like hand to avoid cutting himself . By the end of the week, he could make an acceptable pissaladière.

By the end of the second week, he could make  madeleines without Tom’s supervision. By week three, Marlena Césaire trusted his skills enough to take him to the Grand Paris’s kitchens to make an enormous cassoulet for the hotel staff. 

As the weeks passed, Adrien’s cookery skills improved, but  Mme. Cuisiniere was still a frightening woman. When she was on the other side of the classroom, he was fine, but the minute her attention was on him he made mistakes.

“Do you want some more practice, Adrien? I’m sure Maman wouldn’t mind if you came over to help prep dinner tonight?” Marinette said, shooting him look filled with pity.

“Thanks,” He accepted, “I need all the help I can get.”

…

“Call me Sabine, dear.” Mme. Cheng told him as he stood nervously in her kitchen, watching her slice beef with a serious-looking cleaver.

“Ok... Sabine. Thank you so much for letting me help today, I need all the practise I can get if I’m going to pass my cookery class.” 

“I’m my pleasure, dear. Marinette talks so fondly of you, it’s nice to get the chance to get to know you.” Sabine said. “Besides, Tom says you have good instincts as a baker, I’m sure you’re much better than you think.”

Mme. Cheng’s words dissolved some of Adrien’s nerves so that when she set him the task of chopping a selection of vegetables Julienne, he felt confident he could do a good job.  He was trying to concentrate on the task, aware of the sharp blade in his hand so he didn’t notice Marinette come into the room.

“Mama? Can I do anything to help?” She asked and Adrien jumped a little at her voice.

“No, honey. Adrien is coping marvellously with everything.” Sabine smiled warmly at him. “Actually, can you rinse this bok choy while I go check your dad’s ok in the bakery?”

“Of course, mama.” Marinette picked up the colander and a bunch of green leaves.

The door slammed behind Sabine and Marinette started separating the heads of bok choy. Adrien couldn’t help but glancing at her as she stood at the sink focusing on washing the dirt off the vegetable. 

“Ouch!” Adrien’s attention diverted, he had nicked his finger with the knife.

“Are you ok?” Marinette asked. Adrien was sucking on his injured finger.

She took his hand, wincing as she surveyed the damage. She pulled him over to the sink, lifting the bok choy out before she ran Adrien’s finger under water. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” She informed him. “The blood made it look worse. Keep it under the water while I grab the first aid kit.”

“I’m never going to pass this class, am I?” Adrien said.

“You will,” Marinette’s voice came from the cupboard. “You just have to remember to tuck your fingertips under when you chop. What did Mme.  Césaire tell you to remember?”

“Claws out,” Adrien repeated.

Marinette turned around to find Chat Noir in her kitchen.

“Chat! Did you see where Adrien went?”


End file.
